


Knit Up your Cloak About You

by tigg71



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigg71/pseuds/tigg71
Summary: This is a story about grief, about moving on and about moving forward. Uther is dead, Long live King Arthur. Amongst all this, Merlin and Leon from a surprising (or perhaps not surprising) bond.





	Knit Up your Cloak About You

KNIT UP YOUR CLOAK ABOUT YOU

 

Twelve months have passed. 

The first month is consumed with mourning, ceremony, and numbness. Every time someone addresses, "My King," Arthur looks around for his father. He is not there. 

Merlin alternates between efficient silence, moving Arthur in and out of his routine with as little fuss as necessary, quietly murmured words of reinforcement, and tension breaking moments of sheer hilarity. Arthur still isn't sure how he manages to spill wine half-way up the wall tapestry, even though he witnesses the spectacular flailing stumble himself. Despite himself, Arthur smiles.

Sir Leon steps into his void to take charge of the Knights as Arthur is drawn away for urgent matters of State. He fills in the missing pieces of information, sentiments some Knights choose not to share with Arthur, and shrewdly assesses those who aren't reacting well to the inevitable change. Every day he reports to Arthur without fail directly after training, as together they reshape the troops to most efficiently respond to the new King's bidding. Arthur won't admit it but sometimes the comforting bulk of the older Knight feels like a weight of reassurance against his weariness. 

Between Leon's steadiness and Merlin's lightness it feels like two forces holding him fast, pushing the edges of a wound together until they stick. Arthur's long contrived plans fall into place and he knows within the month that he has chosen these two men well. 

The second month is full of pageantry; bright shows of largess hiding subtle political movement as Arthur rearranges his Court.

Arthur secures his people with leniency, riding out to tour the lands and bringing with him more than he takes from each village. By the day of his coronation he'd bolstered his reputation with his people, the temporary tax reprieve announced at the celebration only endears him further. 

Arthur steps into the throne the next day; Morgana seated to his left, Merlin standing at his left elbow, Sir Leon to his right, in perfect array. Merlin leans forward as he always does when serving Arthur but this time it's different, this time there is no goblet, no ewer of wine. Arthur turns his head to where Merlin bends to his ear. A murmur ripples through the Court like an epiphany.

It takes longer to secure the Kingdom: border incursions abound, and while most of the adjacent Kings give lip-service there is always the expected pushing of boundaries. Arthur spends the next four months riding out in a show of strength, Merlin and Leon flanking him, his Knights spread out behind.

**

It's in the fourth month of his rule that further changes are bought to a head earlier than Arthur had planned. A local warlord, Graden, has annexed three of Albion's villages and is suffering delusions of grandeur, or so Arthur announces loudly to the chuckles of his men. 

"My Liege, we have intelligence," Leon says, striding up to where Arthur paces at the fireside. 

Merlin smiles to himself, as he always does when the Knights make announcements about the 'intelligence' they've obtained. Arthur catches it and frowns momentarily at him, contemplating that he must find a way to bring these two into alignment with each other, to appreciate and understand what each brings to his counsel. They must be able to function in concert.

That will take understanding; a bigger hurdle for Leon than Merlin. Leon does not have the advantage of knowing what Merlin is, as Arthur does. Arthur knows that Merlin will follow wherever he leads but for Leon the revelation that must come will show whether he truly can think for himself, make judgements purely based on merit. Arthur frowns to himself, flicking it to Merlin again for good measure, and thinks that there's no time like the present to put Leon to the test. He laughs inwardly that he sounds so like his father.

He turns his attention to Leon's report and notes that Merlin, despite his faces, listens avidly.

The three of them sit at table as the campsite bustles, a radius around them remains clear - members of their party keeping a polite distance, though they all know it is not so much of a distance that eavesdropping is ruled out. Arthur has made a point of being on display before his Knights as much as he can, he wants them to know that in military matters, he is still standing next to them, and they to he.

Leon lays out the fortress, its situation, the abandonment of the three villages surrounding and they prepare to ride.

Three days later Arthur's forces are stalled outside the rough wooden compound. The main fortress is well fortified though it should be easy enough to take, the real problem is the 'moat' of people surrounding the fortress - a closed encampment which explains the three abandoned villages. Graden has hoarded the people there, forced them into double service, servitude to his rule and a buffer to keep Arthur at bay. He cannot take the fortress without cutting a swathe through his own people. 

Arthur has to admit it's a clever plan in the short term and one that is clearly designed with himself in mind. In the long term it's a move that guarantees Arthur's stance - there will be no negotiations in the meantime and no quarter once he takes the fortress. Arthur will not have his people used as pawns or fodder.

They sit at an impasse; unable to release the people and unwilling to go over the top of them. To make matters worse, Graden has long-bowmen who have proven their reach, if Arthur even moves within range of the fortress his forces can be picked off by arrows fired over the top of the populace - he has three men down already to testify to this. Without the advantage that Graden's men have, firing from on high, Arthur's own archers cannot overcast the people and Arthur will not fire volleys that will injure as many innocent people as guilty, not when he has a choice.

The three of them are mounted at horse, campsite behind them, in the no man's land between. Here, Graden's men cannot reach them and they are out of the earshot of the campsite itself.

"My Lord, we have been unable to obtain passage through the outer tier, the people are just too scared," Leon finishes.

Arthur's hands grip tightly at his pommel and he sighs. He pulls his dagger from its sheath and begins to pick his nails inelegantly as he thinks. He sighs again.

"Merlin, can you do something about that?" Arthur asks quietly. He doesn't look up.

"Yes Arthur, I'll just use my famous stealth and slip past the entire set-up, shall I?" Merlin looks exasperated. He's already suggested to Arthur that if they withdraw and come back some months later, Graden will have grown tired of the mass of people around him and, no doubt, complacent.

Arthur will not have it, he must start his reign as he intends to go on, he will have none of these petty land grabs. 

"My Lord, perhaps-"

"Leon!" Arthur's voice is curt. "There are other ways." He lowers his voice. "Other ways," he repeats. Arthur grimaces before sheathing his dagger and thinks that there's no time like the present. He looks up to ensure he has Merlin's full attention. 

Arthur lifts his arm, stretches it out towards the fortress observing the slight intake of Merlin's breath. 

"Merlin," he says, extending his fingers in an unmistakable gesture of magic. "I repeat. Can you. Do. Something. About that?"

Merlin's eyes widen and his lips curls into a rictus of horror; he's leaning so far across his saddle, away from Arthur, that Arthur - watching every reaction minutely - can actually see the girth pull and catch as Merlin's weight shifts away from him.

Merlin stares accusingly at Arthur's outstretched hand, frozen. His horse moves under him, shifting its bulk across to re-centre his weight, jostling Merlin out of his immediate shock. "You know?" he breathes, meeting Arthur's eyes slowly.

"Honestly Merlin - " Arthur rolls his eyes, hoping the easy familiarity of it will settle him. " - how stupid do you think I am?"

Merlin lets out a surprised snort of laughter and really looks at Arthur. 

"Do you actually want me to answer that?"

Arthur smiles wearily and claps Merlin on the arm, he flinches slightly.

"Can you do it?" 

"Yes."

They both turn their attention back to the fortress. Leon eyes them uncertainly. 

"How long have you known?" Merlin asks, watching him. Arthur is careful to keep his face easy and unconcerned.

"Ealdor."

"Oh." 

Merlin's eyeing Arthur curiously. "Really?" he asks. "Who else-"

"Merlin, off your horse." 

Arthur dismounts and Leon follows suit while Merlin cringes back in the saddle.

"Merlin," Arthur commands. "Front and centre." 

He sets his feet and squares his shoulders. Merlin slinks off his horse to stand gingerly before him.

"Leon, you will bear witness, never in our generation have these words been uttered. It is time for change to begin in Camelot."

Leon nods, says quietly, "My Liege," and comes to stand at Arthur's elbow. 

Merlin wavers before Arthur.

"Kneel before your King."

"Arthur - " Merlin raises a placating hand. " - this is not the way."

"It is my way, and you will submit to me." He levels his gaze at Merlin, not unkindly, and flicks his eyes meaningfully downwards.

"Yes," Merlin breathes, sinking to his knees, then clears his voice and says more clearly, "Yes, I will." He bends his head.

Arthur smiles, the benevolent smile he has practiced these many years at Court, he smiles down at Merlin and the smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the skin around them softly.

He places a hand on Merlin's shoulder, an age old gesture of royal benevolence and his thumb touches the pale skin curving upwards towards his jaw, he can feel Merlin's pulse fluttering wildly underneath.

"Merlin, son of Hunith, I acknowledge your fealty and accept it. As recognition of this service I grant you the position of King's Counsel and Court Sorcerer. Do you accept this?"

Leon gasps audibly. 

Merlin raises his head, eyes lit up from within, and neither Leon nor Arthur can mistake the reverence in his gaze as he says. "Yes, my King."

"I, Arthur Pendragon, High King of Albion, Ruler of Camelot, Defender of the Western Borders, receive you, Merlin, son of Hunith, into my service and protection." He claps Merlin soundly on the shoulder before adding, "You may rise."

Arthur leans down to take Merlin by the elbow and draw him to his feet, there's a long moment where they just stare at each other before Arthur pulls him into a tight hug.

Arthur's very aware that Leon was completely unprepared to find a magic user - so long banned - at the heart of Camelot; he looks shocked, horrified, morbidly fascinated, but his sword is not drawn and that must be a good sign. He turns to him, putting an inclusive arm around his shoulders to bring Leon into their circle when Merlin interjects. 

"Arthur, shouldn't you have had an oath from me?"

Arthur closes his eyes for a long blink and shakes his head. "You gave your life for mine a long time ago Merlin." 

Arthur turns back to Leon and a long tale of explanations and hope and trust. He trusts Leon to be the first with this, to be the one to understand this revelation, to be the one to share his compassion and wish for change and through it all his love of Camelot and his vision of what it can become. 

Much later, Leon clasps Merlin's hand before they all remount ready to return to the camp.

"Hmmm," Merlin begins, chin tipped down as he considers the fortress still to be dealt with. "Do you want something that will do the job, or something flashy?"

Arthur's a little surprised, a little excited. "What can you do?" he asks.

Merlin shrugs noncommittally. "Pretty much, whatever I can think of."

Arthur's eyes widen like opportunity.

**

When they return to camp, Arthur informs his men that he has officially appointed Merlin as his Counsellor and Leon dutifully steps forward as the first to congratulate him publicly, embracing him chest to chest and clapping him on the back. Leon raises an eyebrow at Arthur, silently asking, 'and the rest?' 

Arthur smiles and brushes his knuckles against his nose, a subtle gesture, 'We will discuss this later.' 

Good, Arthur thinks, Leon has passed this first test, he knows when to speak and when to stay silent. Sir Leon obviously did not survive so long at Uther's side on military prowess alone.

When they ride out in the morning the fortress falls beneath their feet. Tales will be remembered of this day, when King Arthur's men moved like a flood across the land, arrows reigning down around them and not a man injured; as if they were blessed by the gods themselves.

The Pendragon flag unfurls from the battlements, snapping in the breeze, and the King stands before it, his golden hair shining like a beacon against the crimson.

They return triumphant to Camelot.

**

Arthur looks up from his desk at the quiet knock at his door. "Come," he says.

Sir Leon enters, pausing before Arthur and bowing, his shoulders rounded. He raises his fist to his mouth as if to cough delicately, it is an action Arthur has come to translate as 'I've got something to say that I don't think you want to hear.' Arthur is about to start for him, get the inevitable out in the open, when Leon clears his throat. 

"My Lord, if I may - " 

"Speak freely." 

Leon only looks more unnerved at Arthur's invitation. 

Arthur gestures at the seat opposite him. "Come now, sit." 

Leon relaxes slightly at being offered a seat and takes long steps across the room to sit, he leans towards Arthur. "Merlin," he states. 

"Ah."

"I'm concerned," Leon pauses, it's clear to Arthur he's considering his words carefully, "I'm concerned that you should place yourself at risk."

"I am in no more risk than I have been for the last seven years, less perhaps in that regard." 

"But do you know - "

"When the Great Dragon attacked Camelot," Arthur says, "Do you remember?" He looks sharply at Leon. 

Leon nods, holding out his arm to show the mottled flesh of his right forearm. "How could I forget?" he says.

Arthur suppresses a shudder and continues, "All of you Knights thrown about the clearing, injured, dying and only myself left. I was the Prince," Arthur's voice breaks, " - and I couldn't defend my people."

"But you did..." Leon leans forward.

"No," Arthur interjects.

Leon looks unsure, confused. He knows this story, everyone does - Arthur defeating the Great Dragon. Arthur shakes his head and thinks 'the truth must come out.'

"Merlin," Arthur says.

"I'm lying on the ground, barely conscious and then Merlin steps between death and me - " Arthur laughs softly, shaking his head. " - spouting Merlin-rubbish."

Leon leans back from the table as Arthur laughs again - a heavy sound of irony - and continues, "He spoke to it, stood his ground, and the Dragon - " Arthur grits his teeth and plows on, the hairs on his arm standing on end, " - the Great Dragon looked at Merlin and turned away, thanked him for his mercy."

Arthur clenches one hand into a fist, knuckles pressing the skin taut and white. "The Great Dragon was afraid of Merlin; stupid, bumbling, laughable Merlin - " Arthur's voice catches on the last. He looks up at Leon, holding his gaze. "Do you understand?"

"For you. He protected you?" 

"Yes," Arthur whispers, vulnerable for a moment before blinking it away and snorting. "Frankly, if he decided to attack Camelot, I doubt there's anything we could do about it."

Leon looks suddenly worried again and Arthur reaches forward to catch him by the shoulder. "Just as well he's on our side then?"

"I suppose so, " Leon answers slowly. "I just. The ban's been there all my life, I've never known a magic user." Leon's voice is unsure. 

Arthur smiles encouragingly. "He's just Merlin, small mercies for that," and despite his obvious trepidation Leon smiles back. 

"I just don't understand."

"Neither do I, mostly," Arthur says. "Maybe you should ask him about it, you'd probably get less sarcasm than I would." 

Arthur pats him on the shoulder once more, one final time, before pulling back. He rises and Leon does the same, moving towards the door.

"Leon," Arthur calls softly. 

Leon turns to regard Arthur.

"If I ever - " Arthur looks down, fidgets with the gold signet ring new on his finger. " - If I became the sort of man that Merlin would raise his hand against." Arthur smiles sadly. " - Well, I don't think I'd want to stand against him anyway." 

**

Merlin's position, as Counsellor, is formally announced at Court, everything changes around them and nothing of Merlin changes; he still stumbles into Arthur's chambers late and bearing an inappropriate breakfast more mornings than not, and Leon watches from where he sits discussing patrol with Arthur.

Arthur takes Leon more and more into his confidence, into his space, his private world where previously only Merlin had such unprecedented access. Arthur's so accustomed to Merlin that he barely acknowledges him pottering around. 

If anything, he hopes it's this automatic acceptance of Merlin that will begin to relax Leon. Leon knows to take his cues from his King. 

In his new position Merlin is given attention he's never experienced, all manner of people seek him out, and attempt to catch his eye or gain his ear. It becomes an incessant buzzing around him. He complains about it and Arthur complains about his complaining, but the fact remains, Merlin is recognised by the Court as a commodity and the haggling is no less spirited than in the markets, if a bit more subtle.

Leon watches quietly.

**

Arthur watches Leon watching Merlin.

**

Reports have come in of a flying boar terrorising one of the villages. At the counsel table there's a stunned silence, with a snigger or two hastily hushed, Arthur himself would be laughing out loud if it weren't for the fact that three people are dead, plus, he rather fancies that it would make a spectacular centrepiece for a feast. However, there are eye witness accounts and the trail of bodies, so he is actually going to have to take this seriously. 

"Merlin?"

Merlin turns his head in a way that makes it clear he's been paying no attention whatsoever of the matters that are being discussed. Sir Leon, seated next to him, surreptitiously angles a piece of paper so that Merlin can read his notes. Arthur can feel a line developing between his eyebrows. 

Merlin flicks his eyes downwards to the paper as he answers, over-brightly, "Yes, Sire?"

"These reports of a flying boar - " the corner of Merlin's lip ticks minutely as Arthur says this, " - I'd be interested in your opinion."

Work with me here, Arthur thinks. He steeples his fingers in front of his face, clearing his throat so it's obvious he will continue, Arthur hopes to heavens that this will buy Merlin enough time to catch up.

"You trained under Gaius, did you not?" Arthur asks, "Gaius was well versed in magical creatures." 

"That is true."

"Perhaps you are familiar with this animal?" 

Merlin's eyebrows begin climbing.

Leon hastily adds, "I myself have never heard tell of a giant boar, five feet across, double tusks and with the wingspan of a cart." 

Arthur nudges Leon's leg under the table pleased that he's feeding Merlin this information.

"Yes Sir Leon, it is quite rare," Merlin says. "I believe this is a creature of magic."

Oh yes, the bleedingly obvious, thank you Merlin, Arthur thinks, though he breathes a sigh of relief as Merlin starts talking. The other counsel members listen, intrigued, as Merlin tells them of the creature adding in details from Leon's notes.

"In my opinion, this is a Boar - " Merlin's eyes flicker across the table, alight on the plate of charcuterie before them. " - ham. A Boartham," he emphasizes the 'th' in the pronunciation, it sounds quite exotic. Leon hides a chuckle in a cough. Merlin rattles on for another minute or so and then Arthur rescues him when he starts to slow.

"And to defeat it, Merlin? Can we defeat it with the sword?"

"A sword through the heart should do the trick. I suggest a small contingent." 

Arthur knows this is Merlin-code for, we can deal with this ourselves. "Very good," he notes, before turning his attention to Leon.

"Sir Leon, if you could ready provisions for the three of us to ride out tomorrow. And Merlin," Arthur adds, making it appear he's considering out loud, "Your advice in this matter is invaluable, as I know Gaius' was before you. Perhaps, I should extend your duties to provide advice on matters of sorcery to the Crown."

Merlin goes absolutely still, holding his breath. 

"Does anyone object?" Arthur asks, in his best effected-nonchalance; there's a murmur of agreement around the table.

"Very well," Arthur notes, rising casually from the table. He throws it out, like an offhand comment to the notes-keeper, "Record that Merlin, Son of Hunith is appointed Magical Advisor."

Arthur observes, as he sweeps past the table, that Sir Leon has placed a steadying hand on Merlin's back as they rise to follow him.

As the counsel follows in his wake, Arthur can just make out Leon and Merlin's quiet conversation behind him.

"You made that up," Leon whispers.

"Welcome to my world."

Leon laughs.

**

From where Arthur is standing on the ramparts he can see Leon and Merlin, up another level. He catches glimpses of them through the crenelations. Merlin is moving away then ducks back into sight before moving away again. Arthur turns his head enough that he can watch them quite well, though, for anyone looking up, it would still look like he's surveying the courtyard below.

Leon moves into sight, talking animatedly. Merlin has his irritated look on, waving his hands in the air, an exasperated, dismissive gesture that Arthur is well familiar with - he chuckles to himself and watches Merlin turn away.

Leon steps in close and catches hold of his forearm, sheer incredulity blooms across Merlin's face - also an expression Arthur has seen too often, the slant of his mouth means he's saying something sarcastic. 

Leon pulls him closer by the arm, speaking urgent words to his ear, it looks like they're fighting.

Fighting with Merlin never ends well. Arthur's never understood how someone can be both generally guileless and pin-point scathing at the same time - he steps lightly across the stonework and makes his way to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. 

When Arthur bangs through the door, the image of Merlin and Leon huddled together over something flashes before his eyes fleetingly and then they are apart; Leon, a hand on the rampart looking outwards and Merlin, rocking on the balls of his feet, his hands behind his back.

There's a sharp, acrid smell in the air.

"- and that," says Merlin. "Is why that, er, thing. Oh, Hello Arthur," he ends, loudly.

Leon coughs, smiling behind his hand. 

"My Liege," Leon says, nodding. 

Arthur notes that if he hadn't had prior knowledge that something was up, he wouldn't be able to tell from Leon's composure that he'd interrupted them.

Arthur raises his eyebrows, tilts his head to the side, and addresses Merlin because, after all, he's the one who'll give in first. "Merrrrlin, care to tell me what's going on here?"

Merlin says, "Yes," in a way that clearly means 'No.' He takes in a breath, obviously reaching for some wild story, and starts to gesture then clearly thinks the better of it and tenses his arm firmly behind his back, opening his mouth.

"Smoke!" Leon shouts, leaping towards Merlin as a thin trail of gray becomes visible over his shoulder.

Merlin shouts, "Rats!" 

Leon spins him around. Merlin's eyes flash in the light, arms flailing, as he slams his hands together and Leon smacks at the small flame licking along the back hem of Merlin's tunic. Leon's large hands beating out the flame sound huge, the slaps reverberating off the stonework. 

"Hey!" Merlin shouts. 

Leon gives Merlin's tunic one more whack and it propels him, like a reluctant volunteer, directly before Arthur.

Neither of them look at Arthur as he shouts, "Will someone tell me what's happening here?"

"My Lord - " Leon begins. He's cut off by Merlin. 

"I was showing Sir Leon some magic - " Merlin levels a belligerent look at Arthur. " - He actually asked." There's an emphasis, on the last word. 

"Did he now? Perhaps I would like to see."

"Always a first," Merlin mutters but he looks closely at Arthur, assessing.

"It was quite amazing, my Lord." 

Leon steps forwards. 

"I'd never known such things could be controlled." He smiles encouragingly at Merlin. "Let me see again."

Merlin shrugs and holds out his hand, palm upwards, his gaze shifts down to his palm and Arthur's follows.

"Beran", Merlin says.

Fire pours from Merlin's fingers coalescing into a flaming sphere in his hand. Arthur takes a step backwards.

It's awful and compelling. Watching the flames curl around themselves in Merlin's palm, Leon is captivated, his expression something like wonder as he moves closer, reaching out his hand towards it. Arthur finds himself moving too, drawn in by it.

He stops Leon's arm with a wary hand. They both look up at Arthur. 

"Don't get burnt."

Merlin tips his head to the side looking at Arthur as he reaches his hand out to Leon. 

"Arthur," Merlin says giving him that special 'you really are an idiot' look. "I'm holding it. In. My. Hand."

He tips his fingers downwards and the ball rolls, flames tumbling over themselves, into Leon's outstretched palm; he cradles it. There's a reverence in Leon's face that Arthur's never seen before, a delicate gentleness in the look that passes between them as Leon and Merlin share this extraordinary thing. Arthur is struck by a pang of jealousy. He draws closer again.

"Can I? Can I have a go?" he asks in a hushed whisper.

**

The way Leon watches Merlin really starts to change when Arthur takes a small party on a hunting trip. The Kingdom has settled for the moment, and Arthur has allowed himself an indulgence, the lure of sightings of a king stag just too tempting for him to resist. He takes Merlin and Leon, two other Knights - Olwyn and Bertrand, and the five of them plunge into the forest.

The first day is spent heading for the heart of the forest until they find tracks, then stalking and planning. Arthur is a patient man and will take his time to do this properly. They set up a base camp; three tents and a fire pit with good access to water.

As night sinks around them, Arthur leans back against a log gazing up to the cloudy sky above, he's a display of relaxation, happy amongst his men, and they settle around him. They're spread out like spokes of a wheel, legs all pointing inwards to warm their feet at the fire.

Bertrand brings out a wine skin and they pass it around. 

The Knights all drink steadily and heartily, Merlin more tentative. Arthur gives him an encouraging nod and he drinks more fully. 

Arthur smiles, running his mouth over the wineskin before taking a long draft himself.

They settle into an easy camaraderie, more wine, and a tiny bit of song. Merlin lists sideways, startling slightly as his balance goes before coming to rest leaning against Leon's knee. He puts a hand out to steady himself, his long fingers lighting against Leon's leg. 

Merlin swings his face up to Leon, flushed pink, before forcing his head away, jerking his hand back and righting himself. He rises immediately, gathering the debris from their meal and bustling out of the clearing. Leon's gaze follows after him for a long, long time. He rubs unconsciously at the place where Merlin's hand had curled around his leg.

Arthur considers that maybe an accord will be easier than he thought.

**

Arthur sits in the windowsill of one of the high towers, no one will disturb him here and the light is good as he pores over the accounts. It's always easier without the Steward staring over his shoulder, it reminds him too much of his boyhood tutor hovering.

He also has a great view of the training field below, Sir Leon leading the knights in drills, parry and thrust, as the morning moves on and the sun rises in the sky. Merlin is leaning, loitering really, against one of the horse rails at the edge of the field. Sometimes Arthur thinks that Merlin is so adapted to his old prince's schedule that he meanders through it during the day without even thinking about it. He's often to be found pottering near the training field mid-morning.

Arthur turns back to the sums, trailing his finger down the columns of numbers, his ring shining in the sunlight.

He glances up to see Leon throw down his shield in a gesture of irritation. Leon raises his arm and Arthur can see the problem, his gauntlet is not sitting right. Leon flexes his fingers and the reticulated sections sway outwards - it looks like he's broken one of the leather straps. He addresses the men, lining them up against each other before stomping off to the armouring tent.

Merlin trots after him, looking on curiously as Leon throws the piece of offending armour to the ground.

The sound of the practice drill is relaxing; a rhythmic, metallic clang - softened by the distance - drifts up to Arthur.

Leon and Merlin talk as Leon rifles through a barrel of odds and sods, he pulls out a spare gauntlet then replaces it when he realises it's for the wrong hand, he delves in again.

Merlin bends to pick up Leon's broken gauntlet, turning it over and over in his hands. He offers it to Leon, his mouth turning up shyly as he holds it out. Leon takes it tentatively, examining it closely then looking up at Merlin in surprise. He pushes his hand into it, flexing the joints, it moves perfectly. They both look so pleased that Arthur smiles himself.

Leon moves forward, cups Merlin's chin in his hand and stoops to press their lips together. Merlin's eye-lids fall shut as he tips his head into it. 

Arthur counts the heartbeats. One. Two. Before Leon steps back. Merlin's mouth follows after him, lips parted for another heartbeat before he opens his eyes to see Leon moving back towards the Knights. Merlin scruffs his hand through his hair, looking comically befuddled. Leon doesn't look back until he's almost out of sight, but then he does, turning on his heel he looks back, meets Merlin's gaze, and bows his head in salute before entering the field.

Merlin goes back to his place at the horse rail. When he attempts to lean on it and misses, his elbow skidding forwards and pitching him stomach first against the wood, he doesn't stop beaming for a moment.

**

When the stag has been properly hung and prepared the ensuing feast is loud and raucous for no other reason than that they have a fine set of antlers for the Great Hall and venison for all.

Merlin is prevailed upon to provide entertainment, 'Parlour tricks' that he sneers at, but has agreed to at Arthur's bidding, letting the Court understand that Merlin is learning at the King's behest - slowly, slowly is the way to bring magic back to Camelot.

Several people congratulate him - a good sign - and are interested in what he is 'learning'. Arthur suspects that magic never died under his father's ban and watches in interest.

When Merlin returns to the high table, scowling all the way at Arthur, Leon rises to congratulate him, clapping him on the back, his hand stays there. As he leans in to speak to Merlin, Arthur watches it slide, deliberately, down to rest at the small of his back, when Leon guides Merlin into the seat next to him. 

Arthur claps and calls for musicians and sound fills the hall; music and song, tales of bold adventures, and the bright colours of his people dancing in front of him. Staring into his cup, Arthur tries to count how much he's had to drink, then gives up, realising that he's had just enough to dance and inviting Morgana to join him.

They flow to the middle of the floor, her dress billowing out around her as they reel together. He moves from partner to partner, laughter bubbling up and it's an easy happiness.

Leon's now dancing with Morgana and they move elegantly together, both of them tall and lean as they spin past Arthur. She's laughing gaily and it's a sound so dear from their childhood that Arthur thinks maybe he should capture this moment to keep it safe. His friends are here; Morgana laughing, Leon elegant with his long legs, the Court full of revelry, and Merlin too, in his rightful place at the high table.

Merlin's mouth is compressed into a thin line.

Arthur hesitates, mis-stepping in the dance and sending his partner spinning the wrong way. 

"Sorry." 

"No, excuse me, my Liege," and she steps around him to set them aright again. 

Merlin comes into view on their next turn and his face is still unhappy, mouth set. Arthur follows his line of sight to where Leon is twirling Morgana, he changes direction and steers his dance partner towards them, cutting in directly to take Morgana's hand. 

"Perhaps you should ask Merlin to dance?" he suggests, loudly, to Morgana as they change partners and Leon's head snaps up. Merlin's face closes off and he rises from his seat, moving towards the door.

Arthur notes that Leon dances two more turns before excusing himself and following.

** 

It's a minor scuffle, bandits really, making trouble and creating havoc. Arthur's party camp partway along the trading route and then seek them out, it turns into running skirmishes that last for days, trailing in and out of woodland, up and down slow rolling hillocks.

When they enter the campsite, Sir Leon propped between them staggering on his feet and blood dripping down the front of his chain-mail, Merlin goes white as a sheet. The pail of water he's lifting falls and hisses amongst the white coals of the fire. "Surgeon," he screeches and then he's running to intersect as they carry Leon towards the tent. 

When Arthur enters the tent, five steps behind, Merlin's yelling, "Get out. Out," and, "Where's the healer?" and "Leon." Desperately pushing him down on the pallet. 

Leon's answers, "Merlin." 

Arthur flounders in the doorway for a moment as men bowl past him and out.

Leon's mail is gone and Merlin is scrabbling at his tunic pulling the laces out and the material apart in his haste to get to skin.

"Blood, all this blood," Merlin cries, running his hands across Leon's skin.

"Merlin, Merlin," Leon calls, batting his hands away and trying to get his attention, shaking his head against his own grogginess and Merlin's rising panic.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Arthur hears behind him, turning to see Gildreth entering. She's a fine healer trained by Gaius himself.

"What nonsense is this?" she says, moving into the tent.

Merlin looks at her, his hands still clenched tightly in Leon's shirt, and his frantic wildness wanes. He turns back to look Leon in the eyes, meet the blue there. 

"Merlin," Leon says, softly, reaching out to trace the curve of his cheek, his thumb leaving a bloody smear bright against Merlin's ashen skin. He pulls him down to press their foreheads together.

"Out of my way, Master Merlin."

Gildreth sounds abrupt but her hands are gentle as she unclenches Merlin's and begins inspecting Leon.

Arthur waits outside the tent. After twenty minutes Gildreth steps outside bearing a bowl of bloody cloths for burning. 

"Sir Leon?" Arthur inquires.

"Knock to the head and a slice to the ear, bled a lot but won't do much harm," Gildreth says, Arthur nods acknowledging.

Gildreth motions towards the tent, "They'll - " she clears her throat. " - He'll need a bit of time."

Arthur positions himself near enough to the tent that he can hear if Leon needs him. All is silent for a long, long time and then he hears Merlin's voice.

"You scared me. Don't do that again."

Leon's answer is soft but Arthur hears it still.

"Come here."

**

When Arthur walks into the stables he's not particularly surprised to see two pairs of booted feet visible under one of the stalls and a hand wrapped over the top of the partition. Stable romps are virtually a hobby of the Knights and he'd often wondered if they had some sort of roster system as no one ever seems to get caught in flagrante delicto and it's not like they form an orderly queue at the door.

There's the muffled sound of harsh breathing and soft voices, the occasional knock against wood. The horses appear completely unperturbed by the ruckus which leads Arthur to think that there really must be a roster if the increasingly rhythmic banging stirs not even a whinny.

Arthur's just back-stepping out of the doorway when he hears it, unmistakably, Leon's voice.

"Is this better?" 

One of the pair of boots moves, wider apart, and there's an amorphous groan followed by Leon's hissing, "Come on," louder and urgent.

There's a dirty chuckle at this.

Arthur's hand loses its grip on one of his leather riding gloves and it falls. He looks down, cringing and jerking a hand after it, quickly looking up to the stall then down again as his glove lands with a soft rustle in the straw. Arthur's hand stays splayed in mid-air, his body frozen, the sordid, wet sound of kissing seems impossibly loud, it feels like even the horses are listening, chewing silently, staring with big, deep eyes at Arthur's intrusion.

Leon whines impatiently and again the feet shift. Another chuckle - Merlin again. Merlin laughs filthily and says, "Oh, I don't think so."

"Come on." There's a hint of demand, hint of desperation in Leon's voice. Arthur can hear the sound of hands scrabbling against wood and both sets of feet rock forward. Merlin rasps, "Yes."

"Oh, oh - " Leon's voice breaks on the syllables. " - Harder."

Merlin's fingers, long and pale, reach over the top of the stall his knuckles whitening as he grabs hold. There's a thud from the other side, a lead hanging down from a hook sways outwards, and Leon groans, obscenely. Another thud, Leon groaning, Merlin's rough, "Yes," and Arthur's dizzy. 

The stable tilts wildly for a moment as Arthur staggers backwards a step and braces himself against the lintel to just breathe. He takes another step towards the sunlight outside, turning away from the dark intimacy of the stables.

He sees Sir Olwyn striding across the courtyard towards the stable. Arthur straightens up, wrenches his mind away from what he's just heard, he doesn't look back but moves to greet him. 

"Olwyn!" Arthur wraps an arm companionably around his shoulder. "Have you seen the new gauntlets in the armoury?"

**

It's just gone past the anniversary of his father's death. Arthur has moved through the memorials with grace and knelt, silently, in vigil with the Knights.

The bustle of the castle continues around him and Arthur feels himself at the centre of it, this leviathan wheeling around him. 

Where he sits - in the counsel chambers, poring over papers - he feels potential spreading out before him; Leon, the first knight of his own Court on one side, and Merlin, soft, set-in-stone Merlin the other - an intangible power that maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to grasp and together turn Camelot into something that has never been seen before.

Merlin leans forward to speak into his ear and his hand rests across Arthur's back, a familiar touch. 

Leon rises from his seat to lean across Arthur while surveying the papers, his hand too comes to settle on Arthur's back, its heavy weight splaying out. Merlin's thumb rests across a knob of his spine and he feels Leon set him thumb atop Merlin's. Their combined strength is warm against him and their hands press like wings across his shoulder blades.

Arthur breathes the moment in deeply, he feels protected, he feels like he could fly.


End file.
